Where He Stands
by Lint
Summary: Not just believe her, but believe in her, she knows him well enough to make the distinction. Lee/Kara. He That Believeth In Me.


It's quiet when the Admiral leaves him sitting there, pilots wings still placed on the seat, Lee listening to nothing but the

It's quiet when the Admiral leaves him sitting there, pilot wings still placed on the seat, Lee listening to nothing but the sound of his own breathing. He stares ahead at the black and white rendition, her ship nothing but a blurred flash of light in an unfocused gun camera, the worst moment of his life frozen and on display.

He hits rewind on the remote, going back only to those few precious seconds when she's still there.

_Just let me go._

Her voice so fragile in the request, the almost pleading in her words, the way they still hit him the same as they had that day.

Let her go.

As if he was going to.

As if he ever could.

Had her ship not exploded, as it does again in front of his eyes for the twentieth time today, he would have kept following for as long or as low as she wanted to go.

He hears his own voice now, begging, wanting her to come back.

_It's okay, just let me go._

The hairs raise on his arms the slightest bit, instinct to hang on for dear life still prevalent.

_They're waiting for me._

He's always wondered who.

Gods? Cylons?

_**BOOM!**_

His own voice again, crying out, breath catching in his throat as he bits down on his lip to keep from mimicking it aloud.

It's as if the feeling onscreen has never left him.

Despite the fact the she was here, on the ship at this very moment, that he'd held her in his arms.

He lets it play though, rewinds one more time, watches again.

"Didn't think of you as such a sadist," her voice calls, suddenly behind him. "Watching me burst into itty bitty pieces."

Two marines in tow, suspicion and disbelief still shadowing her, free to walk around but never alone.

He smirks, taking comfort that even with all that's happened; she still feels the need to bust his chops.

"More of a masochist don't you think?" he replies, to which she smirks right back at him, that old familiar rhythm of give and take so simple to just ease back into.

She doesn't take a seat, preferring to simply stand there, watching him watch the screen.

"How many times have you played this?" She asks.

In my head for the last two months? He wonders. Or just right now?

"Enough," he says aloud.

"Lee."

Her voice softens when she says his name.

"I'm not trying to make sense of it," he goes on. "If that's what you're thinking."

"It would be a waste of time," she agrees. "I was there. I'm not sure what happened, but that," she nods to the screen. "I don't remember."

"There went my next question."

She nudges his shoulder slightly for that.

"They don't know what to think of you," he says.

"They think I'm a frakking toaster."

He looks at her then. "Not everyone."

"Not everyone would say it to my face," she bites out before her lips curl up into a slow grin.

"I don't think you are," he says.

"I know."

"It wouldn't matter," he goes on, looking back to the screen again, her ship nothing more than a flash of white light. "Even if you were."

He can feel her surprise at the statement, doesn't even have to look again to know she's standing there wide-eyed.

"Are you out of your frakking mind?" She says. "Of course it would."

"Not to me."

He watches out of the corner of his eye, as she her opens her mouth then closes it, the sharp retort he was expecting falling short.

"Kara after all we've been thro-" He cuts himself off, turning his head back to her. "Do really think I wouldn't have your back?"

"Come on," she starts in that tone, the one that tells him she's still Kara and he's still Lee, and whenever things get too serious they only end up hurting each other.

He clicks the footage back on, let's her hear him, his pain being broadcast over speakers, his voice crying out for her.

She opens her mouth again only to snap it shut once more. Reaching out a hand toward him, she stills it in midair, lets it drop back to her side.

"Two months," he says. "I'm not going to pretend like I can understand what it was like for you. What you felt, where you were or how long you thought you were gone but that's what it was to me."

"Lee…"

"You have no idea," he mumbles. "No frakking idea what losing you did to-" He cuts himself off again.

"I'm really sorry," she replies softly.

Really sorry? The last time she said such words to him to he didn't believe her.

"Doesn't matter," he says. "You're here now."

She's different now, he tells himself, everything is.

She gives him a sad smile.

"Why do you believe in me?"

Not just believe her, but in her, she knows him well enough to make the distinction.

He gets up from the chair.

Because it's you, he thinks, because my eyes and my heart see the same thing.

His eyes lock with hers.

"You know better than that."

He puts his arms around her, tries not to squeeze as hard as he did before.

"I'm here," she says against him.

Her hands slowly slide along his back, as if they're just now noticing the sweater he's wearing.

"What's with the clothes?"

He laughs a little. "How much time you got?"

She laughs back.

They stand there, just breathing each other in, the fact the two marines behind still watch with trained eyes easily ignored.

"It's going to get worse," he says, pressing his forehead against hers, "Before it gets better."

"Nothing's worth it if it doesn't hurt a little," she replies.

He shifts so that their lips are almost touching.

He leans in slightly.

She lets him.


End file.
